MISCELLANEOUS.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume VI, Issue 469, 26 December 1849, Page 4

MISCELLANEOUS.

A Chinese Tail. — The last, by no meant the least, change which the foreigner must undergo, in order to pass unobserved through China, is, the shaving of the head, all but the crown ; and the appending of a long cue to the hair which is attached thereto. Any common Chinese barber, will perform both of these operations for a trifle, end will do them aci cording to the accustomed mode ; care must, I however, be taken to secure bis secrecy, or to get the business accomplished in such lime and place, as that if he does become garrulous on the subject, it will be impossible for him, or his neighbours, to discover the object or the destination of the traveller. Proper arrangements having been made, the barber sets to work, and removes all the hair from the lower part of the head, leaving that only which covers the hinder part of the crown ; he then takes a longcue of loose hairs fastened in three divisions to a piece of siik cord, and gathering up the hinder locks of the foreigner's hair, he binds the cue on as tightly as possible, so that it may appear to be a continuation of the individual's own locks. After this he gradually plaits the three divisions of additional hairs into a tail ; towards the end of which he introduces a quantity of silk thread ; and, the whole being properly fastened, the cue is complete. The traveller should, however, not allow the barber to add too much supplementary hair ; as, if the cue be too weighty it will cause too great a strain upon the slight tie by which it is fastened, and endanger the coming away of the whole ; as was the case once with the writer. With a cue thus fastened the wearer must be careful to keep on his cap at all times. Another thing likely to lead to the discovery of the traveller's origin, if his hair be light, is the jutting out of a few straggling iocks from underneath his cap : so that the foreigner must every now and then, when not observed, put them up carefully, and not allow the odd hairs to hang about. The cue will be found to be very much in the way of those not accustomed to such an appendage particularly when stooping to do any work, it generally falls forward and hinders the performance of the operation ; or it catches in something from which he is going away, and suddenly arrests the individual in his progress ; if the violence of the pull does not actually detach the cue.' At night also, a man can scarcely turn round in his bed. without being forcibly reminded that he has got an unusual appendage, and without being in danger of dislodging it from its position, The way to avoid much of this inconvenience is, to bind the cue round the head, or twist it about the neck. This, however, cannot be done in company, or in the presence ! of superiors ; as it is considered a mark of disrespect to wear the tail otherwise than hanging down gracefully behind. After all that can be done, the additional hair is immediately discoverable when the head is shaved, and therefore it would be adrisable for a foreign traveller not to place himself in a barber's hands during the course of his journey. The writer did this on one occasion, when far in the interior ; but the village operator being too stupid lo make observations, and being altogether ignoiant of the existence of foreigners, failed to remark upon the singular appearance of the head presented to him. Not so, however, the mistress of the house, who asked her husband why the person's hair was so short as to need a supplementary cue ? Perhaps said her husband, his wife, has cut short his hair, which may account for its stunted appearance. In order to obviate the inconvenience arising from such enquiries, in future, the writer shaved his own head and beard. This had to be done generally in the dark, without a glass, soap, or brush, and with only a towel dipped in cold water to moisten the chin, and a common Chinese razor to remove the stunted hairs. At the first effort of this kind, the razor employed was blunt aud full of notches, having been previously used to cut a black lead pencil; in this way a beard of ten days' growth was removed in about half an hour, but not without much torture, which forced tears from my eyes. With a good instrument, however, the affair went on smoothly afterwards, and the writer rejoiced in being able to render himself independent of Chinese barbers. Though, were his example to be followed by all the inhabitants of China it would throw about a million of plodding operators out of employ. — Chinese Miscellmy.

Madam Catalani. — Among all the victims which the implacable epidemic has carried off, none is more regretted than poor Catalani, whose arrival in Paris a short time ago was bailed with So much pleasure. The career of this extraordinary woman is perhaps unique in the annals of music. Much of her success was no doubt owing to' the novelty of

her talent, and to the wondrous facility of her vocalization, which was then entirely new to the world, but most of all to the extraordinary times in which she lived, and to the opportunities afforded her of displaying her powers before the numerous assemblages of crowned beads then gathered together both in Paris and London. She had been destined by her father, a jeweller in the town of Sinigaglia, in the Roman States, to a life of monastic seclusion, and had accepted the destiny without regret, when the fame of her extraordinary powers of song, as displayed behind the veil and grating of her convent of Ginovia, to the astonishment and delight of the congregation gathered in the chapel induced her father to alter his plan for her future life, and to transfer her, at the age of sixteen, from the walls of the convent to the care ofMarchesi, the most learned professor of singing of the day. It was after three years' instruction from this great master, that her d4btit took place at Vienna, in the year 1799. From this first dibUd her career was one unceasing triumph until its close in 1827. Iv Portugal she was named Grand Mistress of the Music of the Palace, by favour of the Queen. In Spain her progress resemble! that of a triumphant conqueror, the population of many cities turning out to welcome her with dance and song, and to lead her on her way ii triumph. On her arrival in Paris, the Emperor Napoleon made her an offer of the post of director of the Grand Opera with an annual salary of £4000, but she declined the tempting proposition, being under an engagement to appear in London. It was here that a new and unparalleled career of triumph began for this celebrated singer, and where her prosperity reached a climax which had never before, and perhaps never can be again, attainable by one of her profession. Catalani remained in England from 1806 to the year 1814, during which time she never ceased to excite universal enthusiasm. Her bouse had become the rendezvous of the exiled French nobility. The Duke j deßerri and the Count de Provence, both at that time emigres in England, were frequent visitors there, ami her salon soon became a political point de reunion, where every ' evening were gathered together all that remained of the once brilliant Court of Francp. When the allied Sovereigns had replaced Louis Dixhui: upon the throne, he invited Madame Catalani to Paris, and gave her the direction of the Italian Opera with a salary cf £8000 a-year. The speculation, however, did not prove successful, and in 1820, Madame Catalani again returned to England. No city in Europe has preserved so enthusiastic a remembrance of Catalani as St. Petersburg. The Emperor Alexander viewed her with especial favour, and marvels are still told of the generous competition which existed between these two sovereigns, who vied with each other in acts of the most princsly liberality. Wishing to leave behind her some mark of gratitude for the reception she had met with, Madame Catalani advertised a concert to be given for the poor of St. Peter&burgh, at the great theatre, the very night before her departure. In consequence of the number of tickets sold, the theatre was found to be too small for the company, and the public Exchange of the city was, by the Emperor's orders, fitted, up for the ceremony. The concert- realised the enormous sum of £4000 sterling, every farthing of which was generously abandoned by the singer to the various hospitals of the place. The Emperor himself waited upon Catalani the next day with thanks for her generous assistance. He found her in the very act of departure, being seated in her carriage which was to bear her away. He knelt on one knee upon the lower step, and begged permission to kiss her hand ; she withdrew her glove for the purpose, and while with the grace and courtesy of ; a paladin he he bent over the small fingeis, he clasped rouud her wrist a diamond bracelet, of the same Value as the sum which had been realised by her efforts in favour of the poor of his beloved city. It was in 1827 that Madame Catalani appeared for the last time in public, and itwasin Dublin that she warbled her last song. Never did an artist retire amid such, glory as Catalani. She was elected member of fourteen different academies, eight gold medals were bestowed upon her by various sovereigns and city corporations in testimony of admiration of her talent and gratitude for her unbounded charity. As a wife- and mother her conduct was irreproachable. She was honoured for her virtue, and beloved for her gentle amiable manners, and amidst all the homage and splendour which surrounded her, she still preserved the simplicity of her bumble origin, and the austerity of principle she owed to her conventual education. — Atlas, June 23.

Na*oleoh and Washington. — Washington does not, like Bonaparte, belong to that race who outstrip the standard of human measurement. Nothing amazing is attached to his person ; he is not placed on a vast theatre of action ; is not engaged in terrible combat with the most skilful generals and the

moit powerful monarch* of hit time ; does no haste full speed from Memphis to Vienna from Cadiz to Moscow : he stands his groum with a handful of citizens in a country adorn ed with no particular, celebrity, within th< narrow circle of their, domestic hearths. He fights no battles which revive the triumphs ol Arbela and Pharsalia ; he overturns no thronei to build up others with their ruins ; he doej not say to the kings at his gate :—": — " Qu'ils se font trop attendre, et aiCAttila s'ennuie."' An air of silence envelopes Washington's actions ; he acts slowly ; as if feeling the liberty of the future is in his hands, and fearful of compromising it. This hero of a new race manages, and directs, not his own destinies, but those of his country ; he does not allow himself .to toy with what is not his own ; but from this profound humility what brilliancy now bursts forth ! Traverse the woods where Washington's sword flashed to the lightfs what will you find ? Graves ? — No ! a world ; Washington has left the United States as a trophy on hi* battle field. Bonaparte has no trait in common with this grave, calm American ; be combats noisily on an old theatre of action, in an old country ; he thinks only of building up bis own fame, takes charge only of his own destiny. He seems to know that his mission will be short ; that the torrent which falls from such a height will quickly be exhausted ; he hastens to enjoy and abuse ht3 power, like a quickly fleeting youth. Like Homer's gods, he Tongs to reach the extremity of the worlJ in four steps. He appears on every shore ; hastily inscribes his name on the records of every nation, and throws crowns to his family and his soldiers ; he is in haste in everything, in his monuments, his laws, and his victories. Leaning over the world, with one band he overturns kings, with the other crushes the giant revolution : but in overcoming anarchy he stifles libeiry, and finally loses bis own on his last field of battle. Each is rewarded according to his deeds ; Washington raises a nation to independence ; a magistrate in the repose of domestic life, he falls asleep beneath his own roof, amid the regrets cf his fellowcountrymen, and the veneration of nations. Bonaparte robs a nation of its independence ; a fallen emperor, he is cast forth into exile, where the terror of nations still looks upon him as insufficiently imprisoned, even under the guard of ocean. He expires ; the news, published at the gate of the palace before which the conqueror caused so many deaths to be proclaimed, neither arrests nor astonishes the passers by : what had the citizens to regret ? Washington's republic still exists ; Bonaparte's -empire has fallen to the ground. Washington and Bonaparte were both nursed in the lap of democracy : both born of liberty, the one was faithful to her, the other betrayed her. Washington was the representative of the wants, ideas, intelligence* and opinions of his times ; he seconded, instead of opposing, the movements of the public mind : he willed what it was his duty to will, the thing to which he was called ; hence the coherence and perpetuity of his work. This man, not striking because in his just proportions, mingled his existence with that of his country : his fame is the patrimony of civilization : his renown stands like one of those public sanctuaries whence flows a fertilizing, inexhaustible stream. Bonapaite bad it equally in his power to enrich the common domain ; he had, as material in his bands, the most intelligent, the bravest, and most brilliant nation on earth. What would not now be his rank in the estimation ,and reverence of men, had he added magnanimity to the heroic qualities be possessed : if, Washington and Bonaparte in one, he had named liberty the universal legatee of bis fame ! But this giant did not link his destinies with those of his contemporaries : his genius belonged to a modern age, his ambition to an ancient one ; he saw not that the miracles of his life outshone the value of a diadem, and that this Gothic ornament would ill suit his bead. Sometimes he precipitated himself on the future, at others fell back on the past ; and whether going against or with the stream of the age, drew with him or repulsed the waves by his mighty strength. Men were in his eyes bqt a means to power : no sympathy united their happiness and his ; he had promised to deliver them r and they became estranged from him. The kings of Egypt built their funeral pyramids, not amidst verdant fields but amidst sterile plains of sand : these vast tombs rise like eternity in solitude — Bonaparte followed their example in erecting tht monument of his renown. — Chateaubriand* Memoirs.